Page 5

Two
Cari
“I’m Patrick, by the way.”
I look across the center console at the guy who agreed to drive me home. A stranger. I asked a total stranger to take me home. A ridiculously hot stranger who nearly made me swallow my tongue when he opened his bedroom door. But a stranger, nonetheless.
I caught my boyfriend with his dick in some girl’s mouth and that’s all it took for my drunk ass to lose every ounce of self-preservation I possess. For all I know, this guy is driving me to his kill shack in the woods. And I asked for it. Sure, he’s gorgeous but you know who else was good-looking?
Ted Bundy.
Tears start to well up again and I let out a long, slow breath, trying to keep them at bay. It didn’t work. “I’m Cari,” I say, knuckling tears off my cheekbone.
“Are you hungry?” he says, shooting me a quick look, like, See, I’m normal. I eat food and everything. Totally not a psychopath. “I’m starving.”
We’re stopped at a stoplight, not far off campus and I’m considering jumping out of the car. It’s pretty obvious he’s trying to put me at ease but it’s not working. But then I look at him. It’s still dark outside and the red glow of the stoplight washes over the features of his face and that’s when I see it. He’s not just hot. He’s perfect.
“I could go for some pancakes,” I say, tilting my head to give him a smile. “Might help soak up some of this tequila.”
“Excellent.” He thumps the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. “I know a place that has the best pancakes in Boston.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re parking in the lot across the street from a little hole-in-the-wall diner that has a line out the door that’s comprised of mostly still-drunk college kids with a liberal sprinkling of white-collar business types. By the looks of it, it’ll be hours before we get a table.
“On second thought, maybe I should take me home,” I say, slowing my stride. “They look crowded and you probably have stuff to do—like get to class.”
Patrick stops walking and turns to look at me. Smiles at me and it’s like staring into the sun. He shines, so perfect and bright, it almost hurts to look at him. “I do need to get to class... but I want pancakes,” he says, his dark green eyes glittering with humor. “And bacon. Do you like bacon?”
“What kind of girl do you take me for?” I say, fighting the smile threatening to brake over my face. “Of course, I like bacon.”
He splays a hand across his chest and lets out what sounds like a relieved breath. “Thank god—I thought I was going to have to leave you here.” He holds his hand out to me and I take it so he can pull me onto the sidewalk. As soon as I’m standing beside him, he leans in to press his mouth to my ear. “Stick with me, and don’t talk to Nora unless she talks to you first, okay?” he says, straightening to look down at me. That’s when I realize how tall he is. I’m five foot nine and I feel tiny standing next to him. The second thing I notice is how amazing he smells. Like sunshine and sawdust. I recognized it as his scent the second I picked his shirt up off the floor. Rob’s douchey cologne doesn’t smell half as good.
He’s still looking down at me, waiting for me to answer him so I nod like an idiot. “Okay.” For all I know he is Ted Bundy and he is going to take me to his kill shack in the woods. But I don’t care. Not as long as he keeps looking at me like that.
He smiles again. “Here we go,” he says, swinging the door open, stepping aside so I can pass through it first. As soon as we’re in, Patrick takes the lead, grabbing my hand so he can pull me in his wake, past a massive swarm of people crowding the hostess station. Behind the podium is the frailest, scrawniest old woman I’ve ever seen. She can barely see over the hostess station but the gaze that focuses on me is laser sharp. “Hey—hey, Veronica,” she barks at me and I’m instantly confused. Veronica? She must see the confusion on my face because she points at me, her boney finger hovering in the air between us. “Yeah, you—you ain’t special. You see that line?”
“Nora,” Patrick reaches for the hand that’s pointing its finger at me and lifts it to his lips. “As beautiful as ever.”
As soon as she sees Patrick, Nora seems to grow six inches and a slow smile spreads across her face. “I was wondering when you were gonna show up,” she says. Hand still held aloft, she skirts the podium, neck craned to look up at him with total adoration. Her forehead barely clears his bellybutton but she give him a disapproving tsk. “It’s been weeks.”
Patrick nods his head while people behind him start to grumble. Without looking away from the old woman in front of him, Patrick reaches a hand between us to catch me by the wrist. “I’ve been busy with classes,” he tells her, pulling me closer.
“No excuse. Con makes it in to see me.” She gives him another disapproving glare but it’s thin enough to show the affection beneath.
“Con isn’t in college anymore.” Patrick’s mouth quirks as he fights to suppress a smile. “I’m sorry, Nora—I didn’t mean to stay away so long. Got room for me and my friend?” The request ups the volume on the grumbling crowd to near riot levels.
“Hey,” Nora shouts, her voice loud, tone drill-instructor sharp. “You’re gonna shut your damn cake-holes or you’re gonna leave my damn restaurant. Ain’t gonna be both ways.”
It’s like someone hit the mute button. That’s how quiet it is. I can feel a grin coming on but then she shoots me a look so sharp I can feel it withering on my face. “Somethin’ funny, Veronica?”
I shake my head, fast and sure.
“Got Con and Audrey in the back,” Nora says, tilting her head toward the dining room.
Patrick seems to hesitate for a second before he nods. “That’d be great, Nora.” He leans down to press a kiss to her soft, wrinkled cheek.
She beams at him, pulling her hand free. “Next time, don’t stay away so long,” she tells him, giving him a pat on his cheek that sounds more like a smack. I’m chewing on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Promise,” Patrick says, rubbing the feeling back into his cheek.